


A Short Story about People Who Hate People, with an Undetermined Moral

by Spike_1790



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-31
Updated: 2012-03-31
Packaged: 2017-11-02 19:34:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/372599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spike_1790/pseuds/Spike_1790
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>William's thoughts before death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Short Story about People Who Hate People, with an Undetermined Moral

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in 2007.   
> This is William's thoughts as he's being turned in 1880, not Spike's thoughts in season 7, or at the end of Angel.

I am cold. The stone against my body is damp with my blood, and it smells like copper. I can no longer feel my legs. They are numb. I am numb. I am cold and I am dying in an unfamiliar place. I am drifting in and out of consciousness. There is a faint sound of music on the air, floating into my sleep oppressed brain. It sounds so familiar. This is not how it was meant to be. This was not how I was meant to die. I have tried to stop the blood from spilling endlessly from my jugular, but I am weak now. I can’t keep the pressure on.

I can hear the distant sound of footsteps and laughter. Could this be my saviour coming to my rescue? Could it be the proverbial white knight that inevitably gallops in on a white steed and rescues the innocent and the children from the evil and wicked people? Not in this Once Upon A Time. The sound passes. I am alone again in my own thoughts. It would seem appropriate for me to cry. But I don’t. I am stronger than that. I will attempt to prove, as it seems that there is no doubt about my fate now, that it is possible to die with dignity.

Funny thing about dying is, it’s not like what people think. There is no white light. No white lights, or tunnels, or anything. Just a whole lot of thoughts, all mixed together and becoming confused. Distant memories flood back into my mind. I push them back into the darkness. I will not cry today. Another time, another day, maybe…

It would now seem appropriate to convey to the reader what has happened. So I will work backwards, starting here and ending there. I am alone in an alleyway. It is cold and I am bleeding from the vein in my neck. There is only one reason why I am here- it is because some people can’t accept other people. Once upon a time I was alive. Not popular, but tolerated. And I loved a woman. I loved her with all my heart. But she didn’t love me. I was beneath Her. She left me in a crowded room, to be with Them. The ones who laughed and teased and taunted me. I knew them and I was scared. For all God’s talk of redemption and forgiveness, he can’t help me now.

Then She started…

I do not consider it necessary to go into the particulars of what happened, but some things were said and some things got done that got regretted. This was where it started. She became mean. If I saw the woman I loved, they would be right there, pretending to be her guardian angels. They made me run into the night.

It came to pass that I did prophesy a dream, in which she killed me. There was music coming from a restaurant or a party or a ball- it doesn’t seem important anymore- and the street was full of people. But I was alone on this street. The people moved through me, as if I wasn’t there at all. And there She was, the knife in her hand, the knife in my heart. She alone could see me. It would be a lie to say that in this dream I did not want it. The End is such an over-dramatic term. I just wanted peace. I wanted to be released from the pain she was forcing on me everyday of my waking life. She held the blade of the knife to my throat and slowly drew a line down my body with the sharpest point. It felt wrong, like she wanted me to enjoy it. She smiled, paused, and forced the blade into my neck. I did not scream. There was no time. I fell through time and space. They say that if you die in your dreams, then you die in reality. I died in that dream. 

She was there. A different woman. A new, and vibrant and ethereal woman. I remember. She laughed as it happened. It wasn’t her in the end, it was her boyfriend. Her Angel. In the end She wasn’t strong enough to do it herself. But I wasn’t strong enough to run. I saw no point in running from fate. It wasn’t as romanticised as it was in my dream- there was no long drawn out slaughter, no toying with the mind of the soon to be deceased. There was just a sharp pain and the knowledge that in four minutes I would never see anyone again.

So this is how it is and this is how it goes. We are here now. I am cold. The stone against my body is damp with my blood, and it smells like copper. I can no longer feel my legs. They are numb. I am numb. They were smart. They steered me into an alleyway. People walk past it all the time, but it is always hidden in shadow. Just to be on the safe side, they hailed a coach to wait over the entrance, so I won’t be seen or rescued. They are in the coach now. I should scream for help but I don’t have the energy. I am already dead. This is the most alive I’ve felt in months.

The moral of this story is… I don’t know. Make it up for yourself. I can’t help you anymore. You have to find your own way now. Just be ready to run when I wake up.


End file.
